Now her point of view had completely altered. At first her idea was merely that the soldier should recover with no other nursing save that which she and old Jean could bestow upon him. But now that he was recovering, she was equally determined he should be saved from whatever enemy he had feared before being delivered into her hands.
Before parting on the previous afternoon Sally had agreed with her patient that they discuss his situation on her next visit to the château.
As the old man and girl crept cautiously inside the opening between the arch of walls, they could see their soldier lying asleep upon his mattress, but between clean sheets and covered with blankets which Sally had managed to secure from the supply at the farm.
The half-dismantled room was cold but fragrant with the odors of the woods and fields. Perhaps the fresh air which had at all times flooded the odd sick-room had been in a measure responsible for the ill man’s recovery, having taken the place of other comforts he had been obliged to forego.
He opened his eyes at the approach of his two friends and looked a little wistfully at Sally.
“You have come at last! I was afraid you would not be able to manage. How kind you have been!”
Sally made no reply except to offer him a glass of milk and to stand silently by until he had finished drinking it.
She looked very sweet. Today her walk and the excitement of her morning had tired her so that she was paler than usual; yet her lips were full and crimson and her brown hair had a charming fashion of curling in little brown rings on her forehead as if she were a tiny child.
The soldier no longer wore any look of mental confusion except that his expression was puzzled and questioning.
“You are much better. I am glad,” Sally said at last. “You see I do not know how often I can come to the château after today, unless you should become very ill again and then I would come in any case.”